The sun blazed cheerfully overhead, attracted, as many were, to the dark-haired teenager hovering over the crystal clear water. The rain had gone away for the first time in a week; it had felt to Juunanagou that someone in the heavens wished to mourn the death of Earth's late and decidedly not great savior, Gohan.
It was an act spurred on by a moment of annoyance, a burst of temper. Impulse. The boy had singed and ruined his favorite of his identical outfits—that was the one with Vegeta's blood stained into the jeans. The dulled, now only brick-red stain was a trophy, the only remaining speak of the arrogant warrior, the only lasting tribute to the great, but ultimately futile fight he fought. Juunanagou cherished the memory of that battle. He had been in top form that day. Vegeta fell in but twenty-three minutes.
While Juunanagou now realized that Gohan had no way of knowing that, the anger had burned in him. And his sister had been only too happy to oblige. The pest had lived long enough, they decided. Losing that precious trophy of his defeat of Vegeta, second only to the one he had been originally designed to kill, may have flipped the switch, but the idea had been around for years.
But like an ice cream cone, Juunanagou and Juuhachigou had foolishly bitten off the bottom and sucked out the entire treat. They knew it was going to melt eventually, and yet they had sped up the process.
And like all children do on a hot day, after finishing their treat, Juunanagou was angry with himself for not prolonging the sweet taste. No longer was there anyone who could amuse him for such a prolonged period of time. No longer was there a refreshing break in the continuous routine of crash cars and tease Juuhachigou.
And so here he was, letting the wind tousle his hair, tasting the salt it kicked from the water and into the air. The sun was beating down, not caring that things were about to happen. Kame House was scant miles away, its pink paint peeling from years of disuse.
Juunanagou's eyes were trained on the water, waiting for Master Roshi's submarine to surface. Eventually, Oolong, Puar, Umigame and the old man would need the food Gohan and the Ox King were always so good about restocking Kame House with. Likely they didn't yet know he was dead...
Or that they would soon join him.
For Juunanagou was like the child who finished his ice cream quickly, and then bent down to lick the melted drops off the ground. The sugary taste was gone, but there were still people to kill.